Ovra na Gwedh
by AlaudeSketchbook
Summary: It begins years before the time of a certain ranger, the time of Arathorn. A companion he had called 'sister' as she was not; he has entrusted her with his family to look after. Her oath will not fail, she will guard his son at the most. DISCONTINUED
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own LotR or anything that belongs to J. R. R. Tolkien except for a few OC of mine. If I do own it, it wouldn't be a best seller even until these times… Come to think of it, I wasn't even born during the time J. R. R. Tolkien serves in the World War I…

Critiques are highly appreciated and encouraged to do so. Surely, I do not want my OC become a Mary-Sue… *shudder*

**Prologue**

The night was grim; the moon and stars were not visible to the land for the clouds have shielded them. Even if the moon is visible, it was red. It was a bad omen, to many things that have known to some wives rumors. Yet, it was an unusual phenomenon. The night was no longer young, and since the stars and moon had shielded from sight, it leaves the land dark, except for some lights of some cities.

It has happened for a while, the red moon it is. Her eyes, that are keener than Men and less keen than elves look skywards with a distaste expression as she tried to see the moon. It's not that she doesn't like stars like elves do, but it was the moon that disturbs her. Maybe it was only her and a Man that noticed it among the group of Dúnedain she's living with.

"Trying to spy the moon again?" A Man asked from behind her. She was not surprised, as she could hear his not-so silent footsteps from a small distance.

"Aye. You know that the moon has been disturbing me for a short while, Arathorn." She said, her eyes still looking up skywards. Then she turned to him with a raised eyebrow, which he returns with his own hard gaze. "You're not with Gilraen and that toddler of yours?"

Then the Ranger smiled. The lady he's with always like being so blunt at times and do not call him or his wife with titles if it was not necessary. Maybe it's because she's still young, 31 summers her age, and yet she doesn't look like as of that age. "Aye, I'm not. She insists me to go with one of my Men or you, young one."

She let out an unladylike snort. "Young one? Surely you still look at me through my age, not my knowledge." She then looks back upwards. "You and your men are to go hunt orcs tomorrow, you need rest."

"And why don't you?" Arathorn asked, eying her with concern by his dark eyes. As the Chief of Dúnedain, he would need to make sure that all of his Men rest fully for the next day, for fear that if an orc had successfully attacks his Men if they are weary.

"I don't think I would be able for rest. These days are dark, and as I know orcs are roaming freely, dangerous they are. I have nightmares of some things that I don't think happen during these times." She told him.

He sighed. "I will take watch of you when you rest. Maybe that way you won't have any nightmares."

She shook her head. "Nay, that won't do. _You_ are the one who has to sleep, milord." She started to talk to him as if he was a loyalty (even though he _is_ one, with hidden lineage) with a scolding tone. "I believe you have some orc hunting with the sons of Lord Elrond." She paused. "Come to think of it, he's kind of similar to me… Even though I never met him."

He grunted. "Understandable. I told you possibly a thousand times already, that you are his kin. Just like him, yet so different. So young, too."

"Yes, you just remind me of that fact. Just get a rest, Arathorn. This night will be tiring for me if you keep on talking to me." She stated wryly.

He smiled before turning around and walk towards a door. He opened it and get inside, but paused to look back. "Keep an eye for my wife and son when I go, will you?"

"That, I will. That toddler of yours just can't keep his hand on anything without trouble following him. Much like his father, I fear." She teased him with a small smile.

He chuckled. "Good night, milady."

"As do you, my King." She responded in a kind, giving him a nod, before looking back skywards. The Man then entered his domain.

She exhaled deeply, after moments he went inside. Even though the Man is much older than herself – being 50 year more and still considered as young, 'twas a no wonder for him being a Dúnedain – that man takes a good care of her even though she had no blood relation to him. He even called her his sister, after her 10 years of knowing him, 10 years after he had found her.

The price of freedom is steep, she had figured. The scars in her body would not disappear, even if she had many more centuries to live on, it will not disappear. She had known it. It was said that if a scar made with a blade of a person holding a strong emotion at the time, it will not disappear. The scars will be a constant reminder of her past – something she doesn't like to face with. She faintly wondered if her mother will proud of her.

Nowadays, she had always wondered to herself; many had noted as she always look at the sky with hard gaze. It was becoming a bad habit as at times she could be caught unaware of her surroundings by the young ones. Surely, she was one of the Rangers for now, under the direct order of the Chief of Dúnedain, and somewhat become a scout for him and his people, for she has keener hearing, faster reflexes and eyesight than Men, for her blood is half-elven. She may be very young for elves, being under 50 summers of age. But then again, being a half-elven would make one to reach maturity almost as fast as Men, which is 18 summers. But even now, she is considered by Men of Dúnedain as a very young adult as some of them that are courageous enough asked her hand at times, of which are refused by her politely and they know not to make her angered. She was feared by some of his Men because of some occasion where it includes herself being angry.

Her stare at the sky hardened as the moon is within her sight. Red moon… She decided that she won't like whatever future had planned for her.


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own J. R. R. Tolkien's really, really famous works as of: LotR, Silmarillion, and others. I only own my OCs…

Peculiarxemma: Ciao 4 u too~! This is actually an L/OC story that I planned sometime after I created my other story of Glor/OC. (I was planning to make both stories somewhat cross to each other later on.) I suppose I'm quite a new writer that the stories I created had a lot of mistakes. There is nothing a good advice cannot fix! Well, anyway… *ahem* Thank you for pointing out my mistakes, and I'm going to take your advice there.

Notice: I _might_ be late for updating both stories of mine, as I am currently kinda busy with daily life here. I got to sing in many events, including this very day before I publish this very chapter, I was to sing many songs with my choir group. And three days from now I got to sing as a classical soloist (O Holy Night in Es), and only has a piano and violin as my accompanies for an event to my school.

**Ch 1**

It was in the morn already. Last night was uneventful, to her relief. She would not like to fight as she was still wary from her nightmares. She has not sleep for a few days, it can be noted by many as the dark rings under her eyes can be seen so clearly when it was morn. The sun's light was able to discover some truth, and some other things – including the dark lines under her eyes.

Some of the Dúnedain can be seen looking at her with concerned glances, for they know her as a baby until now. A woman should not being kept up late and looking out as a scout, especially if she's a virgin. They know of her consequences as well as she do, and when they had told her of it, she would not speak of it no more and avoid their questions, becoming much more distant than the one they had known as a baby.

Her well being was one of the major concerns, and yet she waved it off. She had scouted into some areas for them that often make them victorious in hunting orcs. The other major concern was the safety of the wife and son of the Chief of Dúnedain. As orcs are still walking on Middle-Earth, as do Sauron, or maybe some other devilry, the Middle-Earth would be still in constant danger. A few weeks ago, they had heard one of the village in the North, are attacked by orcs, leaving none alive. That needs to be avoided.

It was a relief for some of the Dúnedain accompanying their Chief in hunting orcs that the half-elven lady decided not to come. They had noticed that in times she wasn't able to sleep; her body will slow, even if her body only slows a _little_. That could be her downfall, well, their downfall if they went out hunting orcs like what they are doing now.

So then, shortly after they are ready, they went to the forest with their mighty stallion. The females and children are all watching the backs of their husbands, sons, and brothers. All except for one. The half-elven lady gazes out towards the forest, not even once acknowledging the fact that the Men are leaving to hunt orcs with the twin sons of an elven Lord, like a hawk looking out to her territory.

Dark lines under her eyes are clearly visible, and surely it won't disappear if she was to be awake most of the time, with no rest, nonetheless. "Homa, why don't you come down here and take a rest? I would like to take your place." One of the rangers that have stayed along with her, right under her watchtower yelled.

"I do not believe that I can have enough rest, my friend." She yelled back.

"But that doesn't mean that you can't go down here rather than up there! Come on here, and help some of us to repair this blasted thing!" Another ranger yelled. He was visibly angry at the wooden gate he and the others tried to fix, but ended up on messing it up more (of which, also made him injured, he accidentally hit his own finger with a hammer he brought) and all of his friends chuckling because of its hilarity. Truly, that ranger knew no patience to do some things. The lady smiled, and jumped down. The rangers around her jumped, and it was expected. No Man could jump from such a high watch tower without a broken leg, and yet she made such feat seems easy. "You crazy elf!" The very same ranger yelled, startled.

She grinned, tempted to correct him that she was not a full blooded elf, but decides against it. It would add an insult to his injury. And by I mean 'injury', it was his injured pride as he realized that he asked help to a _woman_, and it was a female of half of his race, no less. She then faced the ranger with a questioning look. "So what do you want me to help?"

* * *

She sighed, helping one of the rangers – the one that she dubbed as impatient ranger, tires her as she has not rest for a few nights. She was thankful though, to those rangers. They have thought that if one was tired, they can rest easily. One proof was the ranger she assisted on fixing the gate fell asleep almost instantly when they finished on _a_ _rock_. And not the comfortable one in that… She had no doubt that the ranger will be sore the time he wake up sometime later.

It was no doubt that the gate needed to be fixed as there was a time when an orc openly attacks their stronghold. As they lived in the wilderness of North, the orcs can attack them at any time they want, and it was not in their favor to be killed by the hideous orcs. Well, looking at their chief, it was no wonder that they lived outside a city of Dúnedain. He had grown up in the forest of Imraldis, raised by Elrond, the elven-lord himself as a child. Of which, it lead her thinking. Did the Elf lord have a fond feeling to the heir of Isildur as children or maybe he liked children running around his house in general? That must be it.

It had been a few days after the Men and Arathorn went outside to hunt with the twin sons of Elrond, and the half-elf had yet to rest. Yes, she was tired of course, but it did not sooth her anxiousness of seeing the Man she had been fond of calling 'brother' being safely arrived in their stronghold. She had not slept for two weeks straight, no rest, nothing. Most of the time though, she had occupied herself by playing with his son by showing him some silly expression of hers, which always made him in a fit of giggles and helping his wife for household chores, one thing Gilraen will always be thankful and somewhat guilty – of which also leave her tired.

It was then, when she was watching the border in the watch tower, she had seen a group of Men and two unfamiliar people with similar faces. She concluded that they are the sons of Elrond, seeing that their ears – that can be seen clearly from her position – are pointed. But now that she had jumped from the tower and come to them, she does not see one face she had been anxious to see the most. Arathorn.

"Mae govannen." She greeted, as some of the Men noticed her. She looked from one face to another with unreadable expression on her face. Conclusion were made within her mind as she does not actually seen the face of his, but she brushed it aside as she told herself silently that he was still alive. "Where is Arathorn?" She asked cautiously.

It was tense, hard and grim were their expressions. It was then that some of the Men shook their head grimly; some even look away, including the two unfamiliar faces she had seen earlier. "He fell." One of the two new faces said. With that one, simple sentence with no more than two words make her froze, eyes wide in grim shock. No. Not the Man that has recovered her soul from stepping choosing to suicide rather than die naturally either as human or elf.

"What will be of his son and wife?" She asked, more into herself, her head casted down.

One of the two clasped his hand to her shoulder. "We are sorry, Lady. Should we have the momentum to save him, we sure will do, but alas, the orc aimed its arrow into his eye and killed him." He sincerely said, with his eyes locking into her grief-filled eyes. "We should not grief for his death, as he has told us about his son and wife. We must go to Imraldis, as it was no longer safe here for his son and wife."

She nodded in agreement, though her gaze was still filled with grief for him. She was not able to cry, though it was heartbreaking news; the Man she had looked up into in her 10 years of meeting him died of a fight with orcs. She almost believed that the Man is invincible, as he was the one who found her 10 years ago, but she knows that he will die eventually, as he was a mortal. But, it was not this soon… Her heart still refused to tell her that he died right in front of his Men and the two people she just met. "How can we tell her?" She muttered softly.

"We will tell her." The other of the two said.

* * *

"Gilraen…" She muttered eyes casted down to the dirt in the forest floor. She knows it will be hard on her, seeing that she just lost her husband and it was told by one she has never met. Her hand soothingly stroked the child sitting on her lap, who was currently sleeping. The poor child would not have his father playing in a part of his life. Only two years old and his father was… Gone…

She herself, a person who had known the Man for 10 years and was fond of calling him her brother has a large amount of grief, but how will the Man's wife cope with? It was strange, that one's life can be changed because one thing that can be called as 'time'. One hour he was there, and then he's… gone. Not that she was there during his orc hunting…

But no, she had to be strong. Her grief must not over power her. She had made an oath to him the last night she had talked to him that she will take care of his wife and son. And now, looking at Aragorn, it broke her heart at times. His sleeping face held no indication of knowing what was happening nowadays, and was blissfully ignorant. And for that, she was thankful. It would ruin a child's life if the said child was to know dreadful facts in such early age, like what was happened to her…

Without a guidance of a father, what would be of him? She had not a person she would claim as father, but Arathorn had guided her during her 21st summer, the time he had found her. He had her respect as a brother. If he was to be fostered, let it be Elrond was a kind person, a fatherly one, unlike…

No, she must not think like this. Forget the past of hers and she must move forward into the bright future. Arathorn always told her about his foster father, who was, the very same Elrond; a kind elven-lord who welcomed everyone he had not thought of threat, much unlike King Thranduil that she had heard. She did not notice of a fact that her hand curled up as small, yet firm fist. She has stopped stroking Aragorn's hair, which made him wake up and looked up at her with a pair of grey eyes – which he had inherited from his father. "Homa…?" He asked with such innocence tone as a child.

With that, she was brought back into reality and stroked his hair again. "Hush child, hush…" She said, with a soothing tone. The child then slept again, as was like as if he did not awake again from his sleep in the first place. But then, if only the child was older and much more aware of his surroundings, he would have seen the older person's eyes were glistened. Tears were threatening to fall from her eyes, and yet she did not make any movements to get rid of it, as tears were starting to fall. One Man told her that it is alright to cry, that it shows your grief, and yet, in the same time, one can be relieved from it.

She had not known when she had stayed under the tree, right outside the former domain of Arathorn, along with his 2 years old son sleeping on her lap. She had not known of how long her crystal-like tears streaming down her face that she knew still existed after what happened to her during her past. She had not known when she slipped into darkness within her grief.

One thing that she had not noticed was, because of the Man who died, she was blessed by the Valar to be able to sleep, even though it was not a good way.


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, Silmarillion, or anything of Tolkien's work for that matter. If I do, you people would never see any of the plot, the story, or more importantly, the character. I would have Maglor for myself, really. And Glorfindel too. And maybe Erestor and Legolas and Maedhros and _blah_ _blah_ _blah_….

Criticisms are greatly appreciated. Please do give me that I would learn (and fix my stories). Happy reading! :)

Note: Slightly edited, just looked at the time line via a certain website and I just realized that Gilraen was only 25 years old when she gave birth to Aragorn.

**Ch 2**

She had not remembered as of the last time she had cried so much, she used to believe that her tears dried up before Arathorn found her. She had not remembered when she was included by the Men, Gilraen, and her son into going towards Imraldis. And certainly, she had not remembered when she arrived in Imraldis with them.

"Homa…?" Aragorn just had to be the one who woke her from her grief. She was thankful though; the toddler had allowed her to hold him the time she had learned of his father's death.

She smiled with affection to the child, though it was still grim. "All is well, young one. What is it?" She asked. The child hold her hand as he went away from his mother, who was, riding a horse near the twins she had leaned the names Elladan and Elrohir.

He then looked at the scenery around him, one that both he and the half-elf had never seen before in their lives. Imraldis, was full of elves – the other half of Homa's race - as the elven name of the place suggested, was a scenery to behold! "Pretty…" He only spoke one word at a time, of which the half-elf thought it was adorable to an extent. He was not able to speak in a full sentence; however, he had the ability to read people well. That is what Homa realized at some time, when Arathorn gave her the duty to look after his child. Another fact she had learned though, that the toddler tended to like her – maybe it was curiosity, but he had made his way towards the heart of Homa, as a child.

She then looked the scenery around her, taking in the beautiful view of Imraldis. Her expression was not one of the bewildered, but her eyes betraying her expression now and then. It was really, more than words can describe for her, as she saw only the wonders of the North during her life. Pretty, is one word Aragorn can say, as he have not learned the word gorgeous or beautiful as of yet. But really, Aragorn's choosing of words was one of the most accurate. "I agree, young one…" She said, breathless in awe.

Some of the elves had stopped from their routine and stared at the group she was in openly and curiously. It was not usual to see a group of human coming, and yet, with no leader for those who were leading the group were in fact, the sons of Elrond. They can see a child among the group, and concluded that it was usual; Elrond tended to raise human children that were descended from his brother, Elros.

It was much later that the group of human, Homa, and the toddler had found themselves within the House of Elrond during the nightfall.

* * *

"So Aragorn is to stay here?" Homa asked the toddler's mother.

Gilraen nodded grimly. "Yes. Arathorn told me of Lord Elrond being a father to him and his forefathers. I think it is appropriate for him to raise Aragorn here." It was a few hours after Gilraen talked to Elrond in private, and Homa had only seen Elrond in a distance. Strange, seeing that the very person who raised Arathorn was neither young, nor old in appearance; she could swear that he should have looked much older at least. But then again, he was an elf, or in this case, half of his blood was of an elf, just like her.

"How about you for that matter, are you coming back with me and the others to the North?" Homa asked again. Somehow, talking with the wife of a Man she called brother felt grim in a way… It was possible that it was because the memory of the Man was still fresh, and so was the memory of the news of his death.

Gilraen shook her head. "No, I am not." She paused. "And so are you."

Homa raised an eyebrow at the news. "What?" She looked away from the view of the stars she was looking at, towards the wife of Arathorn with confused gaze.

Gilraen sighed. "Think about this, Véredhiel, you are in the land of the other half of your race." Homa winced at the elven name Gilraen used. No, she did not even _want_ to be included within the elves. She knew not of her mother's reason as of why she was born into Arda, and as a half-elven too. She knew not as of why her real father was not within her life, but rather _he_ was. _He_ hated her to the extent of beating her up in the early years of her life that she wanted to finish her life off. Had it not for Arathorn… "Véredhiel, you can start your life a whole new within Imraldis." Homa shuddered at that. She was certain that her father hated her that he went away from her life even before she was born. "Aragorn is also too attached with you. I fear that if you are to go, he will not speak or anything but rather cry. Aside from me he's close to, it will be you, Véredhiel." She said. Homa grimaced. It was not that she does not want within the presence of the toddler. But it was the fact that Imraldis was full of elves, the half race of what she was.

"He will adapt to it, if I am gone." Homa said. "And please, don't call me with that name."

"No. That name is yours, Véredhiel. Homa was not yours for it was in Common Tongue. Véredhiel was the name that your father had chosen as you were born." Gilraen states, her voice grim. She had not known of the slightly older female's past, but she was certain that Arathorn loved her as a sister and wanted the best for her. Arathorn was the only one, aside from his group at that time, who knew her past. She wondered faintly what has caused the older of both females winced at the sound of her own name in Elvish language that was known as Sindarin.

"But have you known of my father? Who is he, and what of his name? What was he like?" Homa asked, no, but rather… demanded. "Mother never told me of _anything_ about him when I ever spoke about him! And _he_ beat me up because of the fact I have my father's blood!"

"_However_, _he_ did it because he wanted your mother to himself. The fact that you carried your mother's blood made him into madness." She argued.

"So it was because I was born into Arda that _he_ was _mad_? It was my fault then." She retorted.

"It was never your fault, dear. It was because of you that Elrond is no longer the only peredhil in Imraldis as of now. It was because of you that Arathorn can survive until this long, with that sharpened senses of yours. The fact you were born was not a wrong thing, but rather, a gift." Gilraen spoke calmly.

Homa snorted. "I'm taking a walk." She declared. This discussion was making her mad; she sure knew that however, she had not want to damage anything or anyone in the room, which includes Gilraen who was sitting on a chair near a table in the middle of the room and Aragorn, who was currently sleeping. All the while, they had gathered within Aragorn's room and talked quietly.

"Both you and I know you can't walk away from this for long." Those were the last words she had heard from Gilraen for the rest of the night.

She sighed heavily as she reached one of Elrond's gardens. She knew she was acting childish, but it's supposed to be expected. She was still young - 31 summers her age - to both Dúnedain and Elvish standards. And so was Gilraen, being 5 years younger than her. Arathorn once told her of that. Arathorn was also a young adult, to the Dúnedain standards that is. But then again, she was supposed to be mature in her age, as she was half-elf, who was to be said to be mature much earlier than that of elves. Elves' maturity age was supposed to be 50 summers, not 31 summers like hers now.

When she arrived in the garden, she had made her way into one of the trees and put her head against that very tree. Yes, this was what she need for now. A good moment of peace would have helped her during the times she was upset or sad. Which was, in this matter, the latter was what was happening at the time. The scenery was wonderful, as expected of that of an elven realm. She took in what was around her; the trees were whispering, the night was cool and comforting. The grass was soft, and the insects that were hiding within the garden glowed softly, as they were fireflies.

She was within the garden in bliss, moments after she entered the garden. It was no wonder; Imraldis was said to be a comforting place. She sighed. She needed to apologize about what she was arguing with Gilraen earlier sometime later. But then, she reflected, Gilraen did anger her by telling her about _him_, her mother, and supposed-to-be elven father. However, she knew that Gilraen only wanted to help her, being the wise younger lady she was.

Father… She never did remember about any person who was fatherly for her, giving her wise advices, and protecting her from any dangers to come, that she had no one to call father. Not even _him_. Arathorn was different; he only guided her as a brother, he respected her wishes. If Arathorn was to be her own father, there was no doubt that he would hunt down those who courted her, even though she refused many in the first place. When she did ask about her father to her mother, her mother would only smile.

But then again, the last words of her mother that she uttered before she was gone were possibly a name of her father. She never told her if half of her blood was of Noldor elf, or of Silvan elf, or of Sindar elf, or even of Telerin elf. Her hair color and eye color could be possibly from her mother, both hair and her eyes were dark, _just like mother_ she reflected. But then, as she was half-elven, her face was much fairer than humans, almost as fair as a normal elf maiden. And her face carried a gentle demeanor too. Her mother did not look anything like her aside from hair color and such, she remembered.

It's been 10 years, after all. She touched her necklace, the only thing that reminds her of her mother.

And for apologizing, maybe she'll need a moment to gather her courage to tell Gilraen that she's sorry for her outburst.

* * *

Within the gardens and the depths of her mind, she did not notice that she was watched by a certain elf-lord who was similar to her, as he was of the same kin, half-elf. Though the other half was human like her, there was also a Maia blood on the mix, which made him not really similar to her aside from being half-elves. Elrond did not meant to intrude the privacy of the others, but the talk of Gilraen and the younger half-elf could be heard outside the youngling's room loud and clear. Elrond happened to be in that hall, as he was walking towards his study.

He knew not of a union between an elf within his realm with a mortal female. However, with such heritage from the elven father can be seen as clear as day. Her face was obviously fair, as she was half-elven. Her ears are pointed for men, quite round for elves. Her steps are soft to men, loud to elves. And that gentle demeanor, reminds him to a certain elf that raised both him and his brother as children. But if what he thought was true, then, it serves the fact that that very elf was still alive, wandering near the shore or such with burned hands. The young half-elf he seen was so similar to that old elf.

But then again, it could be because of her mother. Or maybe she was related to the same elf he was thinking, that she looked in some ways similar to him just as Arwen to Lúthien. Yes, that must be it. Why, he refused to believe his foster father bonded with a mortal.

Within his study, he tore his eyes from the younger half-elf and started to do what he came to his study for.

* * *

Maybe she should not have been harsh to the older female, but it was necessary. Arathorn's death hit her almost as bad as Gilraen's. And maybe worse, as Arathorn was the one who had found her that fated day. He was connected to her almost like a brother with his sister. He was the pillar of her strength, the reason of her living before he had Aragorn with Gilraen.

She looked at her sleeping son. Now it seemed that Aragorn had became the pillar of her strength, as she had watched, that she held him tight as she cried for him when she had heard of Arathorn's death. And yet, she tried to live on her own, without any pillar of her strength. She might have not notice it, but the whole time, their journey towards Imraldis, Aragorn was the one who was always close to the half-elf maiden, holding her hand gently for a child.

The older female had always been sensitive about her family. It could be said as understandable, but it could be said that she was over acting. True, the older female had not known of a person she could freely call as father. Her mother died when she was much younger than the age of 21 summers, she had assumed together with Arathorn. She had many scars in her back, Gilraen seen it when she had taken her into the hot springs she had discovered during her early age. That led her to think that the older man – as Homa refused to call _him_ father – to beat her many times.

But that did not explain the reason as of why those scars would not disappear.

Gilraen inhaled deeply before covering her son with a blanket and went away from his room, towards the chamber that was prepared for her.


	4. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or the Silmarillion, or any of Tolkien's work for that manner. If I do own his works, I would not create this fanfic for yours and my enjoyment, will I?

Note: Do note that I have not read the Lord of the Rings, but rather watched the movie and have looked everywhere, even in the net for the book or at least a chapter from the Lord of the Rings – free. Criticism are greatly appreciated, that I may continue my fanfic with better… Erm… Pronunciation? Do note that I also am not using English as my Native language, since I live in Indonesia, not England or America, or sorts.

**Ch 3**

Alright, maybe she needed more time than a while to gather her courage and apologize to Gilraen about her outburst. She just flat out avoided Gilraen whenever she's nearby, by using many things she could get her hands on and many, many other things. Given her keener hearing than normal humans, she could hear footsteps coming – at times to her way – and hide. If she were into the same room (which is rarely, due to the activities she gave herself by trying to study Quenya –which she seemed to be a natural learner for studying languages or as if Quenya was her native language, it was almost she was familiar with the tongue of old – or the history in the library, learning swords and weapons with the warriors in the field, and such) as the younger woman, she would ignore the other woman politely as the other woman did not make a motion to talk to her.

And yes, it did take a few years that she has to apologize. Though after that, she tended to be more aloof than usual. Her eyes were blank, not many could read her expression through her face. The only few who can read her emotions at times were Gilraen and some certain elf-lords who were very observant; Lord Glorfindel and Erestor. Not to mention young Estel would always easily read her like an open book; it was unexpected from many.

And how she knew Estel was a new name from Elrond for the child, it was because she had watched and listened elves that was near Aragorn calling the said child with another name: Estel. For some reason, she did not like it and told it to Gilraen on one rare occasion she was willing to be near Gilraen without going away in the time span of 5 minutes. Giraen on the other hand, said that she forgot to inform the older female on that night, making the younger female let out a string of Noldorin Quenya curses she created, (out of boredom and) irritated during that time when she was alone. Yes, she did not enjoy the existence of other names aside from names that was given by the parents to their child. (Except for her own name of course. Homa was simply a translation in Common Tongue of her (somewhat hated) Elvish name. _Or so she argued._)

And she _still_ flat-out refused to be called her elven name or any other name other than Homa, except from Gilraen and Elrond. Though, she avoided Elrond almost in the same way as she always avoided the older female. Except if he was to speak with her in private, in which will never happen as she actually helped the elves of Imraldis work for daily lives and somehow managed to spend her time with young Estel and study, and effectively avoided Gilraen and Elrond.

While studying language, she always in the library, barely out of it except if it was time for lunch or dinner. So, she was within the range of Erestor's observing. On the other hand, whenever she went out to a hunt with the guards of Imraldis, she was always within the charge of Glorfindel. So both of the Elven Lords give the ruler of Imraldis the reports of the young Peredhil and her blossoming skills that she would not be a threat of some kind to Imraldis, though Elrond had told them that she was no longer a threat to Imraldis long time ago, seeing that she was close to a young child he recently fostered.

Gilraen too, was told by Elrond about the older female's condition. Elrond had decided that Gilraen needed to know about the older female, seeing that Gilraen's past husband was close to Homa and was recently being so close to their only son. To the point of watching the child like mother hawk, though, the said child's mother was still alive.

So now, Homa was sitting inside Estel's room while reading a book about the history of Arda that Erestor loan her, seeing that the said child refused to leave her side ever since he found her within the library and needed to sleep. Of course; Homa was tired, Lord Erestor mercilessly gave her a lesson in the history of Arda before loan her a book of it. At times, she wondered if it was for his very own sadistic glee or such, but then, maybe the old elf had not got any students who would like to learn about lore. Not that she was completely obsessed or such with lore. _It was just a way to relax_, she had reasoned when Erestor asked her about her studies one day. Aside from listening to the cold wind slicing the air at night or water so gracefully falling from higher ground into the lower as a waterfall.

To listen. It was one of the things she enjoyed doing, even in her lonesome. To listen to the sound of birds chirping in the morning, the sound of leaves ruffled by winds during the afternoon. It was bliss for her.

But then, with listening to the rustle of the winds and the falling of the water outside the House of Elrond, she did not notice that she has fallen asleep. The book she had in her hands had fallen into the floor, and every muscle in her body relaxed. Her eyes were closed, indicating she had fallen into slumber during the quiet of night.

Gilraen walked from outside the room of Estel that Elrond gave him years ago and had to smile at the sight as she entered his room. Being a mother and a friend to her husband's so-called 'sister' he had called her, has many difficulties to overcome. But it was worth it. After all, it was not every day that she could see her son and her friend to sleep so peacefully in the time of dark. Her friend was also only 29 years older than young Estel, making her an older sister figure to him as she was to her (as Homa was 5 years older than Gilraen herself). Young to both human and elves, the two of them.

Gilraen took a blanket and put it over the older female quietly, and put the fallen book into a table within the room of Estel's. She had no intention of alerting Homa, as she needed her rest. It could be seen that she did not actually hear Gilraen walking like she did many times before. In this picture, just for the sake of her son, Gilraen had personally asked her to accompany her only son when the time for him to leave had come, a few days after Homa had fallen asleep in Estel's room.

It was after that very moment, the younger female had personally asked Glorfindel, the Balrog-slayer to personally teach her, with a determined look within her eye. Which, at that very moment, Glorfindel commented to himself that there was a familiar fire within the eye of Homa that resembles his beloved's. It couldn't be that she's another-

No.

Impossible.

If it was, then the girl could be a potential of betraying them like her potential uncles and grandfather did in the past. And, it would be fall of Imraldis if that actually happens. The last thing Imraldis needs was Sauron having a great force of orcs marching towards Imraldis with the aid of the descendant of Feanor. Just because the said people had been promised of Silmaril jewels which did not concern the remaining descendant of Feanor the least as they was not even born when the oath was spoken by their fathers driven by their grandfather and the said jewels were destroyed by fire (AKA Maedhros) or water (AKA Maglor) and/or taken to a place where no one can reach; the sky (AKA Earendil) many years ago in the first place. In their respective places.

It should be different with Caramiriel, his beloved, though. Even if she was a daughter to Maedhros, the eldest son of Feanor, she only posed threat the same (and more) evil that had murdered her foster father. And she just went into the borders to fend off the orcs near Imraldis.

Anyways, Glorfindel agreed though, to teach her personally, the ways of elven fighting, tracking, and everything else that will be needed were she go to the wilderness one day. And with another hidden reason: to watch over the younger being of elven blood. Now that Feanor and his sons were in the Halls of Mandos, they will pose no threat into Valinor, much less Arda and its still-threatened well-being thanks to Sauron and his Ring that happens to be a big threat to all living beings of Middle-Earth.

Glorfindel looked outside the window of his study. Dark times were approaching. Every ancient and living being can feel it in the air.

-0-

Years have passed by, and yet the darkness they felt was still growing, and it did not do anything… yet. Aragorn son of Arathorn had finally revealed by Elrond of his heritage, the reason as of why Homa always watch over him. 20 years old he was, and he had met the one he had called Tinuviel, who she was informed by one of the resident elves that she was the one who was named Arwen, the daughter of Elrond. His glee can be seen by everyone who had seen him, and Gilraen had asked of him as of why the change. Aragorn was warned by Gilraen that Elrond would not allow his only daughter to marry a mortal Man and had told him that his fate was to wander in the wild.

It was for _that_ sole reason that she had found herself inside Elrond's study for the last time in her stay of Imraldis. With her staring straight at Elrond with her serious eyes and Elrond seemed to be uncomfortable with that kind of gaze; it felt like she was staring right into your soul like what Eonwe did during the War of Wrath to some Man/Elf/Maia including Saruman who was called as Curunir. He was sure that she could not do something of the sort and she was no Maia or Valar. At least from what he believed. Maybe it has something to do with her heritage he had not known about? After all, the only thing he knew about her heritage was she was the descendant of one of the elves that created history of Noldor as it seemed to be.

"I had a request, Lord Elrond." She stated, after a while of staring contest with the Elf Lord.

He raised an eyebrow which simply said, 'and what kind of request is it?' to her amusement. Not that she showed it here though. It simply would not do. His eyebrow can be seen as a living caterpillar at times. She had seen it once when he scolded Estel for doing some pranks led by Elrond's twins. Even in their (actually quite young compared the other elves, though they were not really elves considering their father's bloodline) old age, they can be mischievous if they wanted to.

"If Aragorn had to do things in your counsel, allow me to be with him whatever he will do as the result. In all times. Whether you like it or not." She stated flatly. It was her flattest tone she had ever managed.

"And why should I grant it?" He asked, perhaps in cautious manner.

"Because. I had my own promise with Arathorn I will not complete if I ever let Aragorn get away from my sight." She answered. Her eyes narrowed. "It was a dept to him that will be forever unpaid if I do not do my promise, of which I had made for him the last time I saw him."

There was a pause. "Are you sure that you will uphold that oath of yours for all time?"

"Yes I am sure."

Another pause. "Then I will grant it." Both had not known what that means. Had she not known of the Ranger-folk to be the lady of dignity, she would have danced right there and then. The promise she had for Arathorn will be fulfilled, because of Elrond's words.

Instead, she gave him her slow and rather rare smile. "I thank thee for thou understanding. Thou art a great Elf Lord." She said in Quenya.

He nodded at her.

She moved her right hand over her heart and bowed; a proper sign to show the others their honor. Then she walked away from Elrond's study.

They had no more of meetings within Imraldis for the next years, as Aragorn went into travel and she went with him as his shadow.


	5. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings, or any characters in it. I only own my OCs…

Note: I have not read the Lord of the Rings, but rather watched the movie. And because of that, please do criticize me if I made some mistakes. They are greatly appreciated. Believe me, I'm still looking all around the bookstores in my city for any of J.R.'s books, except for the Legend of Sigurd and Gudrun. I have only that book from Tolkien.

Notice: I might be late updating, as I had quite a busy schedule. Not to mention I got sick in the last few days… ==a

So anyways… Here's a question that I have been wondering for a while: Do Balrogs have wings?

Well, enjoy!

_Italics_ = Sindarin

* * *

**Ch 4**

Dreams she had was always not of her own, she had known. As it was not of her own, it happened during the same time she was dreaming, she could tell just recently. It was not of the future – the foresight that Elrond has – nor was it of the past, the age of Noldo. And at times, those dreams came and went like a vision that Elrond and Galadriel experienced. That's what they told her anyway, when she told them of her dreams.

It had happened during her stay with Aragorn in Lorien, as the Lord and Lady of the forest had been merciful to them – the foster son of Elrond and his guardian – and let the both of them to rest as they were weary when they had arrived from their travels. It had been thirty years after their department from Imraldis. Never had they returned to Imraldis since then, as Aragorn had to fulfill his destiny in the wild – or as Gilraen told him.

It was understandable that both Lord and Lady had taken a special attention to their guest Aragorn, as his line was a hidden line of kings. However, what had confused her more than enough, was the Lady's curiosity and kindness she had not expected to her. Though, she intended no harm to be done, the Lady of light had lead Véredhiel to her mirror and saw the young halfelven dreams replaying on her mind as she showed her the mirror. Of a Halfling in the Shire, of a wizard travelling, of the Evenstar, of an elf archer in the Mirkwood, and of few others. Of Aragorn even, at times when she was away from him, trusting his safety on the hands of Halbarad. And also, at times it was of Mordor, torture, flame, and destruction. Often though, she had dreams of people doing their own daily things, or dreams of the king or the king's herald.

It had made none sense to Véredhiel, however the Lady of Light had given her a light that she might understand of her dreams. As her dreams were not a foresight however, her dreams were to indicate of people she will meet or places she will go, of what happened to them in the same time as she. Not the future, not the past, but the present. Her dreams were not a foresight, but very similar to it.

It was a good rest however, that she and Aragorn was able to stay there for a week and meeting with Arwen – one occasion that Aragorn was really happy about and almost unable to contain it as a mature man, to his guardian's amusement. Véredhiel was also told by the Lady that she knew of her father with a hint that he now resided in Lorien – one of the elves with golden hair – and knew that she was there, but shall not said of it until the time is right and the said elf will not reveal himself until she was ready – which answer did not satisfy the halfelven but did not question further instead. Galadriel always succeeded on making her feel tense, even though she had not intended it.

However now was not of that time, as the two of them were not within the Grey Company with Halbarad nor the other rangers, but within an inn of Bree called the Prancing Pony, one of the places that the ranger-folk had guarded. Strider – a name Aragorn had as a ranger – was sitting on a table, smoking a pipe with Eventide – a name that was given from Halbarad to the young guardian of Aragorn as a ranger – who appeared sleeping to the others. Though, Prancing Pony was hardly a place that was quiet enough to be a place to sleep.

No one dared to disturb the two of them and leave them alone in the corner without inviting them to drink, as they said that the ranger-folk were dangerous. And dangerous they were! More so than the people and Halflings they had guarded.

As merry as the inn was, there were however, people who were not. Quiet, awkward, it was as if they were new people – one that the local people would have studied them for a while until they decided that they were safe to approach and invite to their merriness. And it was true, that it was the first time of them here – four hobbits they were. Hobbits that have never step out from their land, the Shire.

Strider touched Eventide – to which she immediately responded by looking at him, then towards the direction he was looking at – as he saw those hobbits, under the name of Underhill that had opted to stay there in search of someone they might know. Gandalf – he had heard from the owner of the inn – was not here in a long time, which had disappointed the Halflings as they asked his whereabouts. It had been a while after that, that one of them had disappeared completely under the noses of those who were curious of them, creating an uproar.

Eventide nodded at him, and towards the place where the one that became invisible when it happened. He nodded at her in return and set into action, and being careful of course, so that he won't be caught. She left the inn and took watch outside, as what the both of them had searched for had appeared right in front of their eyes. She will not have a Nazgul to know where the Ring-bearer was, so instead, she had looked for another inn – which was, right in front of the Prancing Pony. Even though it was near with the location of where the Nazgul and Sauron had sensed their ring – a big possibility, of course, after all the Nazgul was and still was the slave of the ring, Sauron had desired his ring, and the ring was calling for it's master was it not? – Bree was a small town.

Evil had came near, she can sense it in the air. She was not as ancient as Elrond or Galadriel, nor as powerful. However the small amount of animals roaming within Bree such as rats has grown restless and ran away as if being chased by a bird of prey, aside from that, the visions she had was certainly helpful in many things. And of the elven blood that ran within her body - half of it at least - , she could easily see the change in nature, though not many of them were near here, the trees were whispering of foul coming. And it was not within a storm that she was standing in, but as bodily creatures, Ring-wraiths.

With wet clothes that did not seem to concern her at the very least, she re-entered the Prancing pony after a few minutes of confirming what she had felt and went towards a room upstairs that she had heard a hushed talking and some panicking tone on some of the speakers with her less-than-sharper hearing than elves. She walked towards the door – which was locked, probably from Strider's reason of safety for the moment – and knocked. "_My friend, are you finished_?" She said.

"_Enter._" Her friend replied.

She entered quietly, her steps leave only a quiet sound that was barely heard. She surveyed the room swiftly, only seeing four hobbits – including the one that had became invisible earlier, Strider, with his hood down, and the hobbit's cloaks which was near the fire. "You won't need those fires very soon, Master Hobbits." She said by using the Common Tongue, looking at the hobbits one by one before turning her attention to the Man, looking at him straight in the eyes with intensive eyes. Her eyes almost seemed to glow, even though her eyes were actually dark and her face covered with her own hood with the exception of mouth. "_Nazgul. Four of them are coming. It won't be long until they reach here._" She said, switching into Sindarin.

He inclined his head, showing that he was listening. "_Do you have any ideas?_"

She looked at the hobbits then. One of them seemed to understand what they were talking about while the others looked at both her and Strider with disbelieving stares and protective gestures. "_We move to the other side and hide, or disguise ourselves as one of the civilians – separately of course, as 6 people together as a civilian within this place will be suspicious; as civilians within this hour should have not up and around in a group. I suspected that it will be in a few that the streets will be emptier than when we came earlier. If we move outside of Bree, we will be seen by them, and Nazgul were not merciful as I had heard. However, the Nazgul did not know that as far as I know at least. They may have thought that the Ring-bearer was still in the inn or ran away, but they can still call the ring if they can't found it. This decision however, lies on your hands._"

He paused, and then nodded. "Then this is what we should do…"

* * *

She watched as four Nazgul, as she had heard the trees were saying came inside the Prancing Pony, and moments later, had entered the room they used earlier and stabbed the decoys she had neatly set as Strider helped the hobbits to pack their things swiftly and quietly. An unpleasant screech was heard all over the town.

Strider on the other side of the window, spying at the scene as well before he turned his attention to the hobbits near him – who started at the screech, after all, they had been sleeping while the rangers kept being cautious – while Eventide kept on watching the four Nazgul. He knew that she will be his eyes and ears – she had told him of her oath in that very same day when Elrond had told him of his heritage, and he trusted her completely for this task of watching the Nazgul.

Eventide tore her eyes away from the place she was watching; the Nazgul had gone away with their dark steeds and horrible screeches, few moments later. And she had made sure that they were out of her sight. "_They're gone._"

Strider nodded at her. "We will go in the first light." He said, looking back at his charges.

"How could we know that they won't come back?" One of the hobbits asked, eyes were wide with fear.

"They won't." Eventide answered. Looking at the hobbit who asked, she answered, "They will not know of the whereabouts of what they are looking for unless," she tilted her head towards the hobbit she saw disappear earlier, "Master 'Underhill' here responded to the ring's temptation. They will hunt for the ring-bearer and won't stop until they had the ring."

Strider almost blinked in surprise at the mention of Underhill, he had almost forgotten that he had not introduced them to each other. "She is called Eventide." He said, after a while he had seen the hobbits still looking at the lady with suspicious eyes. "She is with me." She inclined her head to the hobbits, and raised both her hands, indicating that she had no means to harm them. There was only one hobbit – the one who had become invisible earlier – who believed in her. Possibly that they were suspicious of her because of her hood was still covering her face.

"Put that hood down so that we can see your face!" One of the still unbelieving hobbits said. "That way, we can know – and decide – that you are safe to trust!"

She looked at Strider and saw him nod his head to her. She tilted her head before using her both hands to put the hood down. As a ranger, she would cover her face, as it was necessary to do so.

Even after all these years they had been together – as rangers of course, and that she was his guardian – she was the same as always. Her face was ever-youthful, never getting old. Her choice was not as a mortal; she had chose to live as an elf – much like what Elrond had done – as she met Gandalf for the first time. When he asked her why she chose that, she only gave him one of her rare smiles.

The hobbits gaped at her, to his amusement. "Is it better this way, master hobbits?" She asked smoothly, noting their reactions and observing them. There were times she dreamt of them, she had remembered.

"Imagine that, Pippin! A she-elf!" One of them said.


	6. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings or the Silmarillion, if I do have it, you won't even know who the hot elf lords that are roaming in middle-earth, as they will be within my closet. Especially Maglor and Glorfindel.

Note: I haven't even read the book, so this would be probably a bit of movie-centric. Though I tried to look for some other fiction that has information/timeline so that I can make it more book-ish. At least a little. Enjoy! :D

And thank you: ShatteredKunai, PureAngelEyes, and Jedi Padfoot, for reviewing, and some others for making this your favorites. And sorry for the late update! Not having inspiration for him, but for my other stories at the moment. ._.;;

... And now it was edited. My mind was jumpy by the time I published this a few days ago... ._.;;

Ashyia Francis Belladonna: Eheh.. ^^;; That's probably because of English was not my native language... Thanks for pointing that out! I'll try to make it better.

**Ch 5**

Now better acquainted to each other, Strider had left earlier and bought a small pony for their journey. And now it was in the first light that the six of them went into the wilderness, as they wanted nothing to do with the Nazgul, but delivering the Ring into the hands of the elves, as the hobbits had said, to Imladris.

And it was within their journey towards the Imladris, that Eventide had found a small amusement by answering each and every question given and every discussion by the young hobbits.

"So how old are you?" One whose name was Peregrin Took had asked. He had taken an interest towards Eventide, as much as Samwise Gamgee had. Though, he was not as polite as Frodo Baggins' gardener. Much as a child he was.

"Pippin!" Another whose name was Meriadoc Brandybuck hissed. "That's impolite! Never, ever ask a woman her age." She had learned that both of them were cousins, as Pippin was also Frodo's cousin. They happen to be the most mischievous pair in the Shire, she had heard.

"But Merry! Don't you ever wonder about elves? I mean, even if lady Eventide looked like she just passed her majority – which I don't even know when for the elves – we can't predict the age of elves like her!" Pippin said.

"The age for elves to reach their majority is in their fiftieth years old, Pippin." She said, before an argument broke between them. "But even then, in their fiftieth age, they will still be called as a very young adult."

"A v-very young a-adult? In their fi-fiftieth-" Merry stuttered, in disbelief of the fact.

"Yes indeed. In their fiftieth year, a _very_ young adult." She said, almost smiling as she saw many of their disbelieving faces. "You may or may not believe it, but it is the truth. I believe you know that elves are immortal?"

"Yes but-" Pippin started.

"-it's unbelievable…" Merry ended. Both of them were wide-eyed.

"It is not unbelievable however, but common for the elves." Strider had entered the conversation. "Now if you still have the energy to talk, you should have been able to pick up your pace. We may never know when the Ring-wraiths will go out for the ring-bearer again."

Eventide had to hide her smile of amusement at Strider's small scolding. Very similar to his father, he was. No more exchange of words did they have during their walk, but they do talk of some topics within their rest, or at least those who had asked questions was not Eventide as she knew of the Shire-folk, one of her men were guarding the Shire and reported to her once in every few days.

It was a few days later that they have reached the Weathertop. Aragorn had decided to scout with the half-elven. Aragorn towards where they'll go the next hobbits were strong enough to go again – which was supposed to be tomorrow – to look for possible threat to themselves were they went there, while Eventide went into where they just went, to cover up their trails in case of Nazgul was able to see their trails as good as Rangers of North did. One thing she knew was she would never want to try to figure out more of Nazguls other than they were wraiths –that were slaves for the Ring, they were once Kings of Men – and that their blades would create another wraith out from their victims. They are better slain rather than studied. She was sure that all of the elves will agree with her.

It was one moment when she covered the trails of footsteps left by the hobbits, that she thought, no, she picked up a smell of smokes rising in the air. She quickly looked towards where she had come from, and narrowed her eyes. Were the hobbits usually did not think before they act? Smokes were rising from the Weathertop. Quickly and silently, she ran towards the Weathertop. There will be no point to cover up their trails had they openly create _something_ that would take the attention of the Nazgul.

She can only hope that the Nazgul did not notice of the smoke and come there, as she won't let another to die while she can help it.

But her hopes had been wrong.

As she arrived back in the Weathertop, she saw the 4 hobbits cornered by the Nazgul – whose backs were facing her – she had hoped not to come for the smokes earlier. Muttering some curses to herself, she unsheathed her own sword and ran towards the hobbits. Just as she passed the Nazgul, one of them slashed their sword towards her neck, and she had used the momentum; it was almost as if they were moving slowly, to slide under the sword. She let her legs to skid, and she used her hands to cover her head, and the sword she had to not touch the ground to stop her from sliding. And her back was facing the Nazgul that intended to slice her. The distance from her head and the sword was very near, and the Nazgul cut her hair instead of head.

She would curse if the situation was not as dire as this. Cursing will not help. Instead, she gritted her teeth in annoyance. The damned Nazgul cut the back of her back-length hair into chin-length!

Calm.

She must be calm and not let her anger get the best of her.

She made a quick survey around for the place all of them were. The floor was sturdy as well as old; she would not be able to break the floor for the Nazgul to fall, and the risk if she was able to, was for the hobbits and her to fall with Nazgul. Breaking the floor was not it. She only has a sword, as well as hobbits with their own swords that were given by Strider. They could not fight, she had seen their face reaction when Strider gave them each swords, awe and horror. Fighting was out of question.

Debris of the broken building around them. Perfect.

"Go behind the debris, and try to roll the big ones or throw some small rocks towards the Nazgul!" She had commanded them, her voice was almost frantic. After all, who will be unnerved to fight many Nazguls at once while protecting a few others who can't fight? Not to mention their swords will be able to make their victims into wraiths with only a cut. She knew that she won't be able to fight them alone. After all, she was just a scout, and moved better to assassinate orcs from the shadows, without their notice. And orcs were much denser in techniques to kill rather than Nazgul.

She only hope that Aragorn – who was better of a fighter than she was – would come before anyone was cut by the swords of the Ring-wraiths and not cut, as he was an important Man and her charge given by his parents upon their deaths.

And thus her tactics to distract the Nazgul until he come or they served their purpose. Hopefully it was the former.

Her sword was only an ordinary sword, yet it has served her well ever since it was first presented to her, from the time of Arathorn. It was not special, nor was it forged by neither elves nor dwarves. What use had a century-year-old sword against the dark swords of Nazgul? Nothing, she had known. But, what would dark react to light; a fire?

She had not any torch, or anything to create light for that matter, her sword will not be effective, but maybe, just maybe, she can fend them until Strider comes - hopefully with something that burns - to create light.

As it screeched hard as she point her sword into one of them, and the dance between darkness and fire – which was getting weaker as the time goes; Ring-wraiths and female half-elven have begun in the middle of the rocky field of Weathertop, in the middle of night. And as only an individual, she had not the strength to repel all of the Nazgul from the hobbits. She was not invulnerable, and this was a fight for survival – in hopes for her not to be even cut by the swords of Nazgul – only by using her agility and a sword, with no armor except for her cloak – which can be used to be a distraction in a fight.

-0-

Aragorn went immediately towards the Weathertop, as he saw the smoke rising from the general direction of it. He knew that his guardian would be early in there before him, as she was after all, nearer to the said place than him, as she covered the tracks that were not really far they leave earlier. He only carefully went into the direction he intended for him, Eventide and his charges to go. As the path of Rivendell was really, a difficult place to look for; 'twas no wonder that Rivendell has been the home for elves for hundreds of years. Even for him who lived there in his early years before his majority and went back and forth, it was still difficult to find. He has to check his path twice and probably more just to go to the right way towards Rivendell.

As it took quite many moments for him to arrive – but thankfully, not hours – he had heard the sound of sword clashed against sword; he had seen fire dancing in the top of the Weathertop on the way there. Probably of Eventide fighting some Nazgul. He went into the campsite earlier, and was thankful that the fire was still flickering, albeit weakly. He took one of the thick branches and made a big fire in the edge of it, before running towards the stairs where it leads towards the top of the Weathertop to help Eventide, in hopes that no one had hurt from the Nazgul's blade.

He saw though, that one of the four Nazgul had went away from Eventide's fight, and went after the Ring-bearer as he leapt into the top of the Weathertop. As he ran into Frodo's direction – when Sam and the others were thrown, and Pippin was thrown towards Eventide – he knew he was too late to prevent it. Eventide - who saw Pippin flying towards her as it was from the Nazgul's backs he came - forced herself run forward while swinging her sword into one of the Nazgul for a distraction, risking herself to be slashed by the three Nazgul in order to catch Pippin. With an 'oof' and some slashing which went around her at the momentum, she noticed not if she was slashed, all that matters for her was to bring Pippin out of the Nazgul range - possibly to the place where either Merry or Sam was thrown. However for Frodo...

Frodo was stabbed, near his heart by a Nazgul; and not any Nazgul, both rangers knew. It was the Witch King who stabbed Frodo, and his blade will be poison to Frodo, making him a wraith if he could not help it. Aragorn ran towards the Nazgul, with a burning branch in one hand, his sword in the other. Of course, it ran from him as the fire is brighter and brighter than the what-used-to-be-sword of Eventide's – which grows dim.

It was not long after, that the Nazgul retreated.


End file.
